


Leave Your Broken Windows Open

by Swordy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blind!Ignis, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Chill XV, Chocobros - Freeform, Dreams, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Game Spoilers, Gen, Happy Ending, Mentions of Suicide Attempt, Post Game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordy/pseuds/Swordy
Summary: Noct’s words to them on the steps of the citadel had been unequivocal.I leave it to you. Noct had been confident that, despite everything, the three of them would survive the endless night and when dawn broke, they would be instrumental in rebuilding the world that he had sacrificed himself to save.Rebuilding the world... that's exactly what they want to do with their lives.Isn't it?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first story I started when I finished the game. It's kind of one of those I _had_ to write for myself before I drowned in a sea of sadness. Then other stories took over and it slightly fell by the wayside. But in honour of Tabata's confirmation that the boys lived (yay!) I decided to start posting it, because this is definitely, _definitely_ what happened next ~~in my head~~.
> 
> This for all the wonderful peeps at Chill XV. Thank you, guys. When I needed a home to share my love for the Chocobros, you've more than provided it. <3

Ignis still dreams of Noctis often.

Despite the frequency, the content varies. Sometimes they're children, innocent boys in the hallways of the citadel, frowned at and shushed by palace staff for making too much noise - not that _he_ was ever the principal noisemaker. Other times they're older, on the open road driving in the Regalia toward their destinies. Occasionally, the dreams are darker and more painful, and he wakes to find his mouth dry and his heart hammering in his chest. Sometimes he dreams about that final battle, as they parted on the palace steps. The Noctis in this dream is always hazy, an imagined version of the man he became - understandable really - since his eyesight had been gone over ten years by that point.

That reunion had been bittersweet. All his years of research had prepared him for Noct's return, and although he had dreamed of the day often, knowing what it would mean to the world, he'd also dreaded it. Noct's sacrifice... The finality of what it meant for the boy he'd grown up with and devoted his life to. He'd hoped and prayed that the information he'd pieced together was incorrect. He'd hoped that Noct would reappear and present them with an alternative solution that he'd missed. _Gods_ , he'd wanted to be wrong.

Inevitably though, the day had eventually come. The four of them were together, just like the old days, but not. They'd camped, but the experience had been awash with sadness. There was much to say, but time and emotion had stolen the words. In the end, they hadn't needed them. They all knew what they meant to each other and they went onward to Insomnia with love and brotherhood uniting them into an unstoppable force.

Almost a year since Ardyn was finally vanquished in the Crown City, the dreams begin to change. He still sees in his dreams - this is something he's well used to - but he realises that this man is the Noctis he never actually got to see with his own eyes: ten years older, more man than boy. He approaches the king of Lucis as he sits on his throne in the heart of the citadel. The way he's sprawling slightly, his head resting on his hand, says there's still something of the young man he knew, somewhat irreverent toward his standing in the world.

He presses a hand to his heart and bows. "Your Majesty."

"You seem surprised," Noctis says, with a smile.

"I suppose I am."

He remembers Prompto's description of Noctis when circumstance brought them back together again at Hammerhead - still Noct, but wearied somehow, like every inch of the world rested on his shoulders. This man is clearly that older version, but his eyes are bright and that burden has gone. He reaches up to touch his own face, fingertips finding smooth, unblemished skin. It occurs to him suddenly that his left eye is open behind his glasses. He blinks a couple of times to be sure.

"I wish you’d regained your sight outside of your dreams," Noctis says, smile faltering for the first time. "It would at least go some way to rewarding you for everything you did for me, for the world, even."

He smiles. "It's not so bad. I've had a lot of time to get used to my situation. It's also given me the opportunity to master new skills - I can read Braille quite well now."

"Nothing ever fazed you, did it, Ignis?"

"Only your flagrant disregard for healthy eating."

Noctis laughs at that. The sound is warm and familiar.

"So what can I do for you, Your Majesty?"

He watches as Noctis narrows his eyes, his expression searching and thoughtful. It's strange to be able to observe these subtle movements when he's gotten so used to having to read everything from tone of voice alone.

"What are you doing now, Ignis? Now the war is over."

"Well, after we dealt with the situation in Insomnia and the sun rose again, we started to focus on relocating people, back to their homes if possible. If not, we-"

He falters as Noct shakes his head, his expression one of fond exasperation.

"No, I'm not talking about what you feel is your _duty_. I'm talking about what you want from life. _Your_ life."

"I... I've not really thought about it."

Noctis rolls his eyes, which isn't exactly kingly conduct as far as Ignis is concerned.

"Okay, well I want you to promise me that you'll _start_ thinking about it, okay?"

"Very well, Noct."

He wakes and lies there for a moment, readjusting to the blackness that never goes away. His hands come up to his face, fingertips mapping the scars. His left eye is fused shut, the scar tissue covering it coarse and uneven. He thinks of Noctis and the dream. What _does_ he want from life? He wasn't lying when he said he didn't know. Admittedly, it's a little ironic for a man who has spent his life in preparation for _something_ to have nothing to work towards.

He rises from his bed, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. His fingers make familiar movements across the screen and a voice intones the time. Coffee is the first order of business and with a fresh cup made, he heads out onto the balcony, his free hand finding a chair at the small bistro table he keeps out here. Once seated, he lifts his head to feel the sun on his face, wondering if there will ever be a time when the sun rising isn't something to be marvelled at.

In the streets below, Lestallum is already coming to life, the market traders calling to each other as they set up for another day. They're all early risers, like himself. With the dream fading, it's easy to tell himself that he's plenty busy and the idea of what he wants is frivolous to say the least when there is still so much to do.

After Ardyn's defeat, returning to Lestallum seemed like the obvious choice while the world readjusted once again, but it had taken several months before things really started to change. At first, people seemed reluctant to leave, like the sunrise was a fluke and the endless night would return, but eventually they'd started to go, to return and rebuild the places they truly called home.

It was this task that the three of them threw themselves into once they were back. They all naturally fell into certain roles - he coordinated the efforts from Lestallum while Gladio and Prompto, along with Cor and Iris, travelled with the displaced communities, dispatching any remaining daemons along the way. It wasn't that anyone didn't want him out there - he'd already proven himself a more than capable hunter - but the aid effort needed direction and organisation, and it wasn't just idle flattery or an attempt to keep him on the bench when his name was suggested as the person best suited for that task.

Talcott had decided to remain with him in Lestallum, which had helped make the decision to stay there easier. They'd worked well together over the ten years Noctis was gone and neither saw fit to end the arrangement, even if the actual content of their work had changed.

More recently though, talk has turned to returning to Insomnia - to try and establish some sort of government now there is no royal family to rule. There is an assumption that he will go, presumably with Cor and Gladio and anyone else still alive who was associated with the original power base. Although they've not discussed it explicitly yet, he knows it's imminent. How he feels about it, is another matter entirely. And yet, Noct’s words to them on the steps of the citadel had been unequivocal. _I leave it to you_. Noct had been confident that, despite everything, the three of them would survive the endless night and when dawn broke, they would be instrumental in rebuilding the world that he had sacrificed himself to save.

So life is busy, and what he's doing is undoubtedly worthwhile, but it's not really answering Noct's question. What _does_ he want for himself? He prides himself on knowledge, yet he's not afraid to admit when he doesn't know something.

This… this he definitely doesn't know.

 

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

The next time he dreams of Noctis, they're in the palace gardens. It's late spring, judging by the array of colours in the carefully tended beds and the skies above them are bright and impossibly blue.

"Let's take a walk," Noctis suggests.

They move shoulder to shoulder along the walkways. For a moment they don't speak - he wonders if this is deliberate on Noct's part, a chance for him to enjoy regaining his sight, even if only temporarily. He reaches up to touch his face, and finds it unscarred once again.

"So have you thought any more about my question?"

"A little, but I've been very busy."

Noctis huffs a laugh. "So that's a no, then. You know I'm the king, right? I could order you to stop what you're doing until you've got something you can tell me."

"You always were impatient," he chastises mildly, because what's the point in getting into a full blown argument; it's only a dream, after all. Noct's expression is still solemn as he sighs.

"The world appreciates what you're doing, Ignis. _I_ appreciate what you're doing. That's not the issue here. It's just one day, everything will be back to normal - life will just be _life_ \- and what will you do then?"

He's an intelligent man - this thought has crossed his mind, but admittedly it's a question he doesn't tend to dwell on, and he knows it's because the answer, or lack of it, scares him. Gladio and Prompto both appear to have settled well into this post-war life, which only increases his sense of isolation whenever he contemplates his own future.

“Once things are more settled, the next step will be establishing some form of government. I believe the plan will be to gather those who were in service to the crown, or who held other important positions across Lucis and return to Insomnia. For Lucis to survive, we need to look to our neighbours, establish trade routes with Accordo and—”

“Okay,” Noctis interjects, “that, I understand. And you want to be part of that?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the words don't come. As far as he's concerned, this is all part of the duty he took on when he swore fealty to the Lucian royal family, and even though they have all now passed, he is no less determined to uphold that vow. On the other hand, he doesn't want to lie to Noct.

“I'm aware of my value in respect to such a complex undertaking,” he answers eventually.

Noctis sighs. “ _Ignis_. We’re back here again. There's duty and there's desire. You _do_ understand the difference, don't you?”

Again, he hesitates. His own needs have only featured in his thoughts insomuch as it was imperative that he stay on top form in order to fulfil his duties. Desires… well, beyond the simple pleasures like good coffee and the enjoyment he takes in cooking, he's never really wanted anything for himself. Noct shakes his head in despair.

"Ignis, you grew up in service of the crown, your life was shaped for you," Noct says gently, "I wasn't the only one burdened from a young age-"

"You were never a burden, Noct. Not to me."

"But you were only a kid yourself, and you were always there to pick up the slack when I didn't want to know." Noctis smiles as they study each other. "I'm sorry I never thanked you for that."

"You don't need-"

"And I'm sorry that I gave you such a hard time about it. I was a real asshole to you sometimes."

He smiles back. "Unnecessary apology accepted. And I swear that I'll give appropriate attention to considering my situation."

Noctis claps him on the shoulder, pleased. "That's all I ask."

It seems impertinent to point out that this is just a dream, pleasant though it is, so he allows himself to continue with the fantasy a little longer. Here, they're just two friends, catching up after some time apart. He realises after a moment that Noct is wearing a wedding band.

"I see congratulations are in order," he says, nodding toward the ring. 

Noct follows his gaze and grins. "Oh, yeah." 

"So how was the wedding?" he asks as they seat themselves side by side on the stone bench at the end of one of the walkways. From here, they can watch the fountain as it pushes water on an endless journey over its smooth marble planes.

"The wedding was amazing."

"Did Lady Lunafreya wear the dress?" he asks, thinking of the gown in the window of Vivienne Westwood in Altissia. One of the last things he'd seen before...

"She wore the dress." Marriage clearly suits this dream-Noctis. "The only downside was not having you guys there."

"Well, it at least saved you the issue of having to choose a Best Man," he teases. "Even though the obviously superior choice would have been my good self."

They both laugh.

"What about you, Ignis?"

"Me?"

"Any potential romances on your horizon?"

He smiles and readjusts his glasses, knows he's equivocating slightly. "I believe I'm what's called 'married to the job'."

"You and Aranea always had interesting chemistry."

"I believe the good commodore could be described in the same terms as myself."

"There you go - you've got something in common."

In truth, he likes Aranea, although being linked romantically has never really crossed his mind. She never once pitied him after he was injured and she played a significant role in getting him fighting again, treating his disability as a mild inconvenience rather than the major hurdle everyone else saw it as. He owes her a debt of gratitude, but whenever he mentions it, she waves him off like the idea of him owing her anything is frankly absurd. Her argument was that his skills were going to waste if he sat around lamenting his lack of eyesight while the world went to shit, so getting him back in the field was her public duty. He realises now that he needed her bull-headed confidence in order to find some of his own.

"What do I look like?" He blurts out into the silence, the question surprising even himself. "Now, I mean. I imagine the scars are quite... unpleasant to look at."

He watches Noctis's expression carefully - there's no look of concealed horror which is a relief, but the sadness is unmistakeable. He's not a vain man, but it's impossible to pretend he doesn't wish things were different with both his sight and appearance.

"I won't lie to you, your scars are significant, but people know why you have them and what you sacrificed. I know it's easy for me to say, but you should be proud of what they represent, Ignis."

"Thank you, Noct," he replies, appreciating the honesty. "I can't say they trouble me; rather, I was just curious having never seen them."

"Yeah, well," the king continues, blue eyes twinkling wryly, "you're still a handsome bastard."

"You always had a way with words, Your Majesty."

Noct studies him for a moment, before his smile fades to something sadder. He laces his fingers together and stares down at them.  
  
"When it happened... I was so wrapped up in everything else - losing Luna, becoming king, receiving the ring, taking on the empire... I never stopped to find out how _you_ were doing. You'd lost so much, and yet you were still the same old Specs - strong and practical and holding us all together like you always did. Gods, now it sounds like I'm blaming you, but I'm not - you were so matter-of-fact about it, it was easy to pretend nothing had changed. I'm ashamed that I allowed everything else to act as a distraction because I was too afraid to find out how you were _really_ coping."

"You're being too hard on yourself, Noct, and with all due respect, I needed to carry on as if nothing had changed," he answers. "Having a sense of purpose with far greater import than my own situation was what kept me moving forward. If anything, I'm sorry that I put you in a position to have to go against Gladio because he was right - you should have left me behind."

"Ignis-"

"No, it was wrong of me, Noct. I know I said I'd bow out if I couldn't keep up, but I don't know what I would have done if it had come to that."

"It didn't, because you're amazing. I know I wouldn't have coped as well as you did, Ignis. You need to give yourself serious credit."

"That's very kind of you, Noct, but I can't allow you to think that I've conducted myself impeccably the whole time since the events in Altissia."

"Ignis-”

"When the crystal took you and we returned from Insomnia, I lost all hope; everything that was keeping me moving forward had gone. Without wishing to sound like I'm making some frivolous pun, those were dark times for me, Noct. I'm not proud of how I acted then."

"You were suffering."

"Indeed. But I made my friends worry when they had more pressing matters to be concerned with. The world had gone to ruin and I was mired in self-pity. I regret that time badly."

“ _Now_ , who’s being too hard on themselves?” Noct counters.

“Maybe,” he replies with a sad smile. “But for a long time I was utterly lost. Looking back, what everyone saw as stoic acceptance of my disability was, more realistically, denial. When the endless night began, I realised that this would be my situation, forever. Everything I'd ever been, to you and Lucis, was gone. I had… I had no place in the world anymore.”

“And now?” Noct asks, gently.

He thinks for a moment, then nods. “Things are better. I've made peace with my situation and I know I've played a vital role in helping people survive the endless night. I know that even though you're no longer with us, I'm still able to serve you by helping to rebuild the world.”

As he's been speaking, Noct has been nodding, looking thoughtful the entire time.

“Good; that's good. But… what if that’s not what you're meant for?”  
  
He frowns. “I'm sorry?”

“I mean, we’re back to that duty versus desire issue. I don't doubt that you’d be excellent in a government role; hell, you're the only person I know who could stay awake through back to back council meetings. What I'm saying is maybe it's time to let someone else do all that.”

“And do what?” he asks, slightly aghast at the thought of a lifetime with no purpose. Aimless days and weeks and months stretching ahead of him. The world moving on while he sits idle. Obviously, there's that ready-made alternative - a position on the new government that would probably fill more of his time than is healthy - yet something doesn't feel right about going down that route, either. He looks at Noct, who smiles and shrugs his shoulders, for all the world looking like he's nineteen again.

“Only you can answer that, Specs. But you need to give it some real thought before you commit yourself to something you're not one hundred percent certain you want to do.”

Noct’s right, of course. Although nothing's been said directly, the time is going to come when he'll be asked to join the Lucian government. People are going to expect him to say yes. _Ignis is a born bureaucrat_ , they'll say. One thing he knows for certain though - if he's going to disappoint them and turn it down, he’d damn well better have a good reason.

And a plan. Because Ignis Scientia _always_ has to have a plan.

 

TBC...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the comments and kudos. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE TAG CHANGES FOR CONTENT DISCUSSED IN THIS CHAPTER
> 
> Once again, thank you to everyone for the comments and kudos. They seriously mean the world, so please keep them coming! I'll be honest - I'm a little nervous about how this chapter will be received. Massive thanks to Muse and other Chill peeps, for helping me with last-minute location issues!

He hasn't seen Gladio for several weeks now. Prompto stopped off in Lestallum for a couple of days recently and he made dinner for them. He enjoys reconnecting with both of them, even though it's bittersweet when talk inevitably turns to Noct. It's getting easier to talk about him now. Time’s supposedly the great healer, but if anything, it's a determination to remember Noct the way _they_ knew him that drives the conversation. Already, he's the stuff of legends; the king who brought back the dawn. Already, people tell their children stories about Noctis Lucis Caelum, the warrior king, favoured by The Six. In time, there will be books written about him, songs sung about him, all of it, whilst flattering, will capture a fabled ideal, and not the man they knew.

So they reminisce about him, camps and cook outs, fishing trips and times where they talked and laughed long into the night. The good times, and occasionally the bad. And they toast Noct as the sun sets, thankful that, because of him, the sun will rise again the following morning.

Over dinner, he almost tells Prompto about the dreams. Their conversation has touched on the talk around returning to Insomnia, so it would be natural to segue into his own feelings on the matter, and how those doubts are manifesting themselves as dreams of Noct, but there is a distance between them, between all three of them, that stops him from doing so. Their evening together is perfectly pleasant, but the conversation is little more than extended small talk.

That night, he dreams of Noct again.

"I've noticed something," Noct says, studying him with those brilliant blue eyes. "When we've been chatting like this."

"What is it?"

They're at camp and he's cooking on the portable grill they always took with them. There are four chairs set out round the campfire, but only Noctis is here, hovering and chatting, but making no attempt to help with the food preparation.

"You don't really talk about Gladio and Prompto."

The statement hangs in the air for a moment, before Noctis picks it up once again. "Is there a reason? Did something happen between you guys?"

"Not at all," he responds. Seeing Noct's expression, he puts down the serving spoon and sighs, knowing this will not be enough to satisfy the other man's understandable curiosity.

"When the crystal released me," Noctis continues, "Talcott told me then you never really came together much anymore and it seems nothing's changed. We were brothers, or so I thought. Was it only duty that held you all together?"

It's easy to see why Noctis would think that, but it's simply not true. He moves over to the chairs and takes a seat, Noct doing the same beside him. For a moment he allows his eyes to take in the incredible view, across Duscae to the Disc of Cauthess. Memories from a lifetime ago. Sights that he will never see again, outside of his dreams.

"When we lost you at Zegnautus it felt like we'd failed; like everything we went through was for nought. The crystal had taken you, Ardyn was unstoppable, the world was trapped in darkness. We barely made it out with our lives. Afterwards, we tried to carry on together, but it was just too hard. All we saw in each other was that failure; staying together meant we were constantly reminded of it... and you.

"As time went on, we just started to spend less and less time together. There was no great conflict, no blaming each other for what happened, but we were all hurting and grieving and we managed that pain by keeping busy."

"And now?" Noctis asks softly.

He smiles sadly, glancing down at his clasped hands. "I'm afraid the situation hasn't changed all that much. They have their lives, as I have mine. I miss them terribly though."

"So _make_ things different."

If only it were so easy. He shakes his head sadly.

"I... I have hesitated to push for anything beyond the times circumstance has organically brought us back together, because I fear they will see my request as weakness and feel obliged to put their own lives on hold to accommodate my wishes.”

Noct frowns. “Sorry, Ignis. I'm not sure I understand. Why would they think you were weak?”

He glances over at the pot. It's not started boiling, so there's no need to tend to it yet. Somehow he suspects that it will conveniently wait, so that he has plenty of time to fill in the blanks for Noct, painful though they are.

“Gladio begged my forgiveness for what happened in Cartanica. He was consumed by guilt that he'd tried to make you leave me behind, even though I'd already told him that I understood his motivations and bore him no ill will.  
  
"As I told you previously, I have reflected on it often, and I assured him he was right and the blame for that situation rested with me. I was ignoring my duty to the crown because I disliked the prospect of being left behind, and that is unforgivable. My own desires should never have been allowed to supersede our commission. Gladio, however, remained convinced that it was his fault.”

“That what was his fault?”

To truly make Noct understand, he has to know it all. It's easier to show him. He unbuttons the left cuff of his dress shirt, and begins to roll up the sleeve.

“Despite repeated assurances to the contrary, Gladio believed that his actions at Cartanica had caused... this.”

He turns his now bare arm over, to reveal the long, straight scar that runs from his wrist almost to his elbow. Beside him, Noctis inhales sharply. It's obvious that the slick, shiny, perfectly straight line is not a result of a hunt.

“I really was lost,” he offers in mitigation, his voice steady but quiet.

“Gods… Ignis.”

He rolls his sleeve back down and re-buttons the cuff.

“Cartanica, Gralea… I realised I'd survived all those situations due only to sheer good luck and because I had you all watching my back. I couldn't fight, not really, so there was nothing for me when being a hunter was principally the only way to survive the endless night. The others tried to assure me that I wasn't a burden to them, that I didn't need to earn my keep like everyone else, that I'd already done enough, but I wasn't made for inaction, Noct. I'd lost everything that made me, _me_. At that time, I wasn't in a place where I could envisage any alternative, so…”

He turns his gaze to the view, watching for a moment as the sun bathes everything in gold.

“Prompto found me. Fortunately due to my lack of vision, I'd missed cutting anything important. That said, the length of time I'd been there meant I still almost died.”

He drags his eyes from the beautiful vista to Noct’s devastated expression. He wants Noct to hear what he says and _believe_ it. His voice is stronger now when he speaks.

“It took a while, Noct, but I found my way back. As I recovered, I realised I had been deluding myself hoping that I may regain some vision, and everything would somehow be okay. I knew that it had to stop or I would never move on. I wanted to get back out there, doing what the others were doing. Understandably, Gladio was reluctant; he said we’d lost enough already losing you and he didn't want to see me getting myself killed for no good reason. We did train together, but I knew he was going easy on me, and if anything was going to get me killed, it was being allowed to be overconfident in my own abilities. Prompto would spar with me too, but he also shared Gladio’s reservations about me hunting and it just wasn't enough.”

“So what happened?” Noct asks, quietly. He looks subdued.

“Aranea happened,” he answers with a smile. “She told me I ‘had to get my lazy ass back out there’. She said she wasn't prepared to let me rot away. She trained me, gave me confidence that I could fight, even without my sight. And it was hard, Noct. Easily the hardest thing I've ever done. But she wouldn't let me give up, and she refused to give up on me. Eventually, I was skilled enough to start going out on hunts, and with that I regained some sense of purpose. By the time the crystal released you, I was as confident in the field as I was before I lost my sight.”

“I can believe it,” Noct replies, shaking his head, awe clear on his face. “When we returned to Insomnia, I just couldn't stop watching you fighting those daemons. The way you moved… seriously, I found myself forgetting you were blind.”

“Thank you. It meant everything that I could accompany you on your final journey.”

Noct appears to process this, and then nods. There's evidently something he's still not clear on.

“So if things are better now, then why still the distance between you all? You said you miss them. Why not tell them that?”

He sighs again. "Because if I ask them for anything, I know they'll oblige me, whether they want to or not, and I couldn't bear to be such an imposition."

“They're your _friends_ , of _course_ they’ll want to do things for you.”

“But if those actions are fuelled by guilt? A guilt that, as I've explained, is misplaced?”

Noct takes a breath. “What if the others want it too? What if you're all dancing around each other, but too afraid to ask?”

He glances away and realises that the pot is finally boiling. He considers Noct’s question as he returns to the grill and gives the contents a quick stir.

“I suppose that's a possibility,” he eventually concedes.

“You need to talk to them,” Noct persists. “Okay?”

“Very well, Noct.”

"Swear it to me, Ignis." Noct's expression is frustrated, but his voice is determined.

"I swear I'll speak to them."

OoOoO

When he wakes, he lies there for a moment, thinking back over the dream. Almost unconsciously, his hand goes to his left arm, fingers following the raised welt of scar tissue from the crook of his elbow downwards.

Now, the actions he took back then feel completely out of character, like they belonged to someone else. That said, he's never made a secret of what he did, never attempted to conceal the scar. His only regret is the gulf it created between his friends, who, to this day, wrongly blame themselves.

He reaches for his phone and checks first the time, and then his schedule for the day. He's due to go out to the abandoned base in the Kelbass Grasslands this afternoon to help put together an inventory of resources they're going to need to get the place up and running again, but prior to that his calendar is clear. This is happening more and more, reminding him of the other matter he's vowed to attend to. He pictures himself in Insomnia, sitting behind an ornate desk in a beautifully furnished office, the sun warming his back as he deals with important matters of state. Despite the challenge of the role itself, it’s definitely the easy option, something well within his bureaucratic comfort zone. So why isn't he pleased by the prospect?

It's fair to say he doesn't need the money. Always financially savvy, he's got a substantial nest egg amassed, both from his role within the royal court that began as a child and as a hunter in more recent years. So he doesn't need to work, not really. Not something as high-pressured as a government role, at any rate. Yet somehow, it's not the money or the responsibility that is giving him pause when he thinks of where his future lies.

He allows himself the luxury of shelving the problem for a while. He's going to eat, dress and then he's going to bake something.

Who knows; maybe he'll have some kind of epiphany while he's working in the kitchen.

 

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

He settles on making a Meldacio Meat Pie.

Dressed casually in a henley and sweatpants, he's half way through making some puff pastry, when the buzz of the intercom interrupts his thoughts. He wipes his hands on his thighs and goes to pick up the handset, which is mounted on the wall beside the door.

“Hello?”

“Ignis? It's Coctura Arlund. Can I come up?”

“Of course; one moment.”

He feels for the button, the buzzer sounding again to indicate that the outer door has opened. He waits until he can hear footsteps coming up the stairs and then opens his own door to greet her.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” he says as he steps back to allow her in. “I apologise that neither myself nor my apartment are fit for visitors.”

“Nonsense,” she replies warmly, taking his proffered hand and squeezing it. “It's me who should be apologising for dropping in unannounced.”

He gestures to over to his kitchen area, where there are stools pushed under the counter top he is working at.

“You don't mind if I carry on? I was just in the middle of preparing some pastry. There's fresh coffee in the pot if you don't mind helping yourself?”

“Thank you. D’you want a refill?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

He hears her bustling around, followed by the squeak of the stool as she takes her seat. She pours the coffee and, from the sound, places his cup back where she took it from. He appreciates people who intuitively know to do things like this. There's then a few moments of silence as he works the dough, turning and folding it with practised hands. Over time, he's grown used to this feeling of being watched; people fascinated by how he navigates his world without sight.

“So how have you been?” he asks. His hands move on the dough then stop, fingertips tracing the surface carefully. The texture is to his satisfaction, so it's time to let it rest for thirty minutes or so. Coctura doesn't answer while he swipes his phone and checks the time.

“I'm doing okay,” she replies and he can hear the smile in her voice, even though she doesn't elaborate. “How about you?”

“I'm very well, thank you.” His fingers ghost across the counter top until he finds the next ingredients he needs to prepare next, the fresh steak and seasoning for the pie.

“What you making?”

“Meldacio Meat Pie.”

“Is that Leukorn?” she asks as he takes the hunk of steak and places it on his chopping board.

“It is. I used to make it with equal amounts of that and the Dualhorn, but I find it gives a stronger flavour with more of the former.”

“Interesting.”

He pauses for a moment and cocks his head to one side, smiling.

“Please excuse my impertinence, but I'm sensing this isn't simply an opportunity to exchange cooking tips.”

She laughs and it’s a warm sound. He’s always liked her no-nonsense attitude, and it's clear that she's also not a fan of this uncharacteristic preamble. He takes a knife and starts to cut the steak into smaller chunks.

“Yeah, you got me,” she admits. He doesn't respond, and for a moment, the only sound is the rhythmic thunk of the knife as it pares the meat.

"You know they're going to re-open Galdin Quay," she says eventually. There's a slight creak as she shifts her weight on the stool. He can picture her, leaning on the breakfast bar, cup of coffee gripped between her fingers.

“I had heard, yes.”

"Even more exclusive than last time. After all, it does contain the best views of where the king returned after ten long years to bring back the daylight. That makes it pretty damn special from the get-go. In honour of Noctis' sacrifice they're going to rename the restaurant 'The King's Landing.'”

He rolls the name around in his mind for a moment, then nods. “I like it.”

When she doesn't say anything, he pauses from cutting the meat, laying the knife down on the chopping board before his hands come to rest on the counter top. He waits for her to continue.

"I've been given the opportunity to take on the restaurant.”

"That's fantastic," he replies, then into the resulting silence adds: "isn't it?"

He's sensing something in her words. "Coctura?"

"I want you to come with me," she says all at once.

He sighs, hating the thought of being pitied, but too polite to say as much and make her feel bad when she's obviously trying to help him. Instead, he finds a smile.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't need a job."

"I'm not trying to give you a job, Ignis. I'm trying to offer you an opportunity I think might interest you.”

He nods. “Please, go on.”

She pauses and huffs a sigh, like it's important that she explains this properly. He can picture her frowning.

“When I was at Galdin Quay before as head chef, it was wonderful, but I had very little say in what direction I could take the restaurant without the owner’s say so. Now I can have that, but it'd be impossible to manage the place _and_ be head chef. Problem is, I've thought about it a lot, and I know I don't want to give up cheffing completely.”

“An understandable dilemma,” he agrees.

“So what I'm saying is I need someone who could also handle that split between managing the place and head cheffing. The money to invest is not the issue because I've got that covered, and I know I'm asking a lot, wanting a business partner who can do both. That's why I wanted it to be you.”

"But..." He's at a loss to explain his surprise. "I don't understand, with me, I mean... I enjoy cooking a great deal, but cheffing somewhere so exclusive seems a little beyond my capabilities, don't you think?”

"Not at all," she says, "I always enjoyed talking with you whenever you stopped by; you definitely appreciate the finer points of gourmet cooking and some of the suggestions you made resulted in the most popular dishes we served. I'd heard about your recipes, in particular your sea food dishes, and how you'd eventually started cooking again after you were injured, but that you only did so for friends. Confession time - I called in a couple of favours and have been lucky enough to sample some of them. You're very talented, Ignis. You might not be professionally trained, but I think this is something you could handle."

"Thank you. I'm very flattered, but..." The response dies in his throat. It's not like restaurant ownership was ever really one of his life goals, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't find the idea tempting. How can he though, when-

"Ignis, surely you're not going to make your eyesight the issue?" she asks, sounding incredulous. There's a teasing note in her voice, and he realises in that moment that she doesn't pity him at all.

"Because frankly, that'd be a _lousy_ excuse. And I won't sugar coat it - running a restaurant, especially somewhere like Galdin Quay is _crazy_ amounts of work, stupid thankless hours and, frankly, after everything you've done you probably should be thinking of retiring to somewhere quiet in the country for a well-deserved rest. Most people would. Taking on the restaurant with me will _definitely_ not be that rest, but it's rewarding and I think you'd enjoy it. As for any concerns about your eyesight being an issue, we're rebuilding from the ground up, so you could set your kitchen up however you prefer it."

He thinks of the resort, of the blue skies and crystal clear sea. In a sense he's lucky because his memories of the place are untainted since he was unable to see what it had become after the daemons took over. He wonders if he could be happy there.

“If I were to join you," he says after a few moments. "I would have to insist on matching your investment for the partnership to be truly equal.”

“Details,” she answers. He can sense her hope in that single word. She _wants_ him to do this, which is definitely flattering and makes her offer more than a little tempting.

"Just… promise me you'll think about it, okay?" she says as she swings off the stool and heads to the door. “Thanks for the coffee.”

He dreams of Noctis that night.

"Did you do this?" he asks, as they sit together at a fishing spot. He thinks it's the one at Daurell Spring. Noctis glances over briefly before his eyes return to watching the line at the point it breaks the surface of the water.

"Do what?"

"Send Coctura to see me."

Now Noct does turn, this conversation evidently more important than the fish. He huffs a soft laugh and shakes his head.

"Ignis, contrary to what I sometimes say, I can't make anyone do anything. If I could, do you think we'd still be having these conversations?"

"Fair point," he concedes. He nods in the direction of the water, where there's movement.

For the next couple of minutes he watches as Noctis concentrates on reeling in his catch. It's a decent sized Reef Trevally. Noct lands it with a broad grin before starting to respool the line, throwing a knowing look his way as he does so. Once Noct has recast the fresh line, the conversation can continue.

"So, why can't you just accept that she came to see you for exactly the reason she said she did?"

"I... I don't know."

"Even now, you automatically assume that people pity you, Ignis, even though you've more than proven that your disability doesn't hold you back."

"I know I've come a long way, but..."

"But what? You're not perfect yet?" Noct answers for him. "You've got to let it _go_ , Ignis. Perfection isn't a worthwhile goal. I mean, think how hard you tried to get me to be the prince that fitted your idea of perfection - who studied hard in school and… and ate vegetables!" He offers a smile. "By _your_ estimation you definitely failed, but I don't think you did such a bad job, do you?"

He studies the king - the boy who became the man who saved the world.

"I believe it's fair to say that you turned out okay," he concedes.

"You see?" Noctis says, grinning. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

A companionable silence descends. The minutes pass and they both return to watching the water. It's into this stillness that Noct suddenly says, "Look, I know you're expecting to go back to Insomnia, and if that's what you want then that's great. But I don't want you to look back on your life years from now and regret the choice you made, Ignis.”

He turns because he realises Noct is studying him again.

“No one could ever accuse you of acting selfishly or neglecting your duties if you make a different decision to the one you _think_ you should make. Just… just promise me you'll think about it, Ignis."

“As you wish, Noct.”

He wakes to the sound of knocking and is surprised to find that he's slept in. He was born an early riser - a useful trait in the many years he operated as the punctuality gene that Noctis never possessed - but lately he's found it slipping. He tells himself that it's nothing to do with the fact that with every day that passes, he's less and less to do.

"Ignis? You there? Can I come in?"

Talcott has keys, but never lets himself in without asking first.

"Yes, come in."

He runs a hand across his face at the sound of a key turning in the lock. When he emerges barefoot from his bedroom, Talcott is in the kitchen, the rustling indicating that he's brought groceries and is currently putting them away.

"Oh hey, sorry, were you still asleep?"

Talcott sounds surprised - understandably really, since the other man is familiar with his morning habits. He's presumably also taking in the fact that he's not dressed yet. Another first. It was warm last night and he slept without a t-shirt on, so Talcott's now got an excellent view of the many scars he's amassed over the years. No matter - the worst are on his face, after all.

"No, it's fine. I was just stirring when you knocked."

There's a pause. He can feel Talcott's careful scrutiny. "You sure you're okay, Ignis?"

He smiles, touched by the other man's concern and makes an attempt to smooth over his hair.

"I assure you I'm fine. My sleep has been a little disturbed lately, that's all."

"Okay, well, we're not meeting with the folk from Longwythe until ten thirty, so there's no rush. I've got some other stuff to do so I'll go and come back in... about forty-five minutes?"

"Thank you, Talcott. I'll be ready for when you get back."

Footsteps head to the door and then stop. "Oh hey, I forgot to say; I've put a little something for you in your refrigerator. A guy gave it to me as a thank you. Thought you'd get a kick out of making something with it."

"Oh yes?"

He can hear the smile in the other man's voice. "It's a Reef Trevally; good sized one too."

 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading / commenting / leaving kudos! And to Nix - thank you for your kind comments, they really do give me a boost. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Although he'd never say the fish was the thing that clinched it, it probably was. That evening he cooks for Cid and Cindy who are visiting Lestallum for a couple of days. The move back to Hammerhead appears to have given Cid a whole new lease of life - he talks about the garage and their work getting survivors back into vehicles, and it's clear that rebuilding the world is giving him a sense of purpose that he'd lost. His only complaint seems to be that he's not able to enjoy home cooked meals with the frequency he did whilst living in Lestallum.

He hears Cindy slapping the old man's shoulder playfully as she laughs and chides him for being so unsubtle. Still, it's satisfying to hear their groans of enjoyment as they demolish the Reef Trevally.

"Goddamnit, son," Cid says, accompanied by the creak of his chair as he leans back. "That was a mighty good meal, but your talents are wasted on an old bastard like me."

He smiles, lips resting against his wine glass for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically playful. Maybe it was the dream, or the ease with which he cooked the meal following his own recipe, but he finds himself wanting to pursue this topic further with people he considers friends.

"Really?” he answers, “So what would you suggest?"

"I dunno," Cid replies gruffly, "Open a damn restaurant! Give Takka a run for his money!" 

Evidently Cid notices his wry smile. "What?"

"You've spoken to Coctura," he asserts, amused. "From Galdin Quay?"

"Son, I don't know _what_ you're talkin' about."

"Cindy?"

"Paw Paw's tellin' the truth. I know who you mean, but we ain't seen her in months."

He can hear in her voice that she's telling the truth, and they'll certainly want an explanation from him now. He closes his eye and laughs softly to himself.

"Coctura came to see me the other day to ask if I'd be interested in taking on the restaurant with her at Galdin Quay when it reopens. We’d be partners - co-owners and co-head chefs. I said I'd think about it."

"Think about it?" Cid splutters, "What in the hell is there to think about?"

"It's a serious undertaking."

"Which you can handle!"

"And a sizeable commitment."

"Ignis," Cid says, sounding slightly affronted that he's even having to have this conversation. "What else you gonna do with your time, huh?"

"Paw Paw--"

"No, he needs to hear this. Son, first tell me this: is this something you _want_?"

"Well," he starts. "I'll admit the idea is quite appealing."

"There you go!" There's a crack, which he interprets as Cid slapping his knee triumphantly. "So let me ask you again: why the hell ain't you said yes?"

“Well, although it hasn't happened yet, there's a strong likelihood of a Lucian government being formed, which I'd be expected to take a role on.”

“So you wanna be a pen pusher?” Cid says, gruffly. He can picture the old man rolling his eyes as he says it. “There ain't nothin’ wrong with pen pushers, mind, but you're still a young man, Ignis. Is that really what you wanna do with the rest of your life?”

"Well..." he begins again. “It's a role I know I'd be good at, and I'd be helping the people of Lucis.”

“And?”

“And… it's a job I could do, even with my... physical limitations.”

Cid makes a disgruntled noise.

"You're blind," the old man says bluntly. "You're _always_ gonna be blind. But that ain't all you are, so quit makin' decisions based on that." Cid sighs, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer.

“What I'm tryin’ to say is, look at what you've been through; you lost your home, your sight, your friend.”

Cid’s hand is suddenly on his arm, turning it over, his calloused thumb pressed to the long scar. Both Cid and Cindy helped him immeasurably during those dark times, so he has no objection to the touch. 

“One time, you thought you couldn't survive it,” Cid continues, “but you _did_. So it's time you worked out what you survived all that _for_ , you hear me?”

There's silence, but it's thoughtful rather than awkward. He wants his other guest's take on it, so he says, "Cindy? Your views would also be most welcome."

"Well, I ain't _quite_ as plain speakin' as my Grandpa, but I think he's got a good point. As long as I've known ya, you've turned your hand to most things; if somethin' was hard, you worked at it 'til it wasn't. You never settled for somethin’ ‘cause it was the easy option. I don't see why this should be any different. Way I sees it, it's like Paw Paw says - you need to figure out if it's something you actually _want_."

He sighs, thinking about the meal he's just cooked, from the confidence in his movements, knowing the recipe was coming together exactly how he had planned, to the reactions from his satisfied guests. Neither Cid nor Cindy have voiced any reservations about his abilities, nor have they intimated that he should be putting duty before this apparent flight of fancy.

"Truthfully..." he muses, "Yes, I think I do want it."

"So say _yes_ , goddammit!" Cid grumbles. "It really is that simple."

OoOoO

Turns out Cid is right.

He calls Coctura the following morning and smiles at the whooping noises he gets from the other end of the line in response when he gives her his answer. She arranges to come back to Lestallum at the end of the week so they can start to discuss plans for the restaurant in greater detail, but her obvious joy at his decision is heartening; Coctura, just like Cid and Cindy, believes that he can do it. He thinks of his dreams - Noctis believes he can too, and given that his friend is merely a manifestation of his own subconscious, it's clear that deep down, he has that same faith in himself.

Typically, a mere twenty-four hours after he's told Coctura he's going to accept her offer, he receives another unexpected visitor. Cor Leonis arrives as he's sorting through some laundry. It's only early, but warm already, so they take the drinks he makes for them out onto the balcony. The market is particularly busy today, bustling and noisy. It's obvious Cor hates it. As a man of few words, he's said very little so far, aside from apologising for arriving unannounced.

They last spoke a few weeks ago, when Cor informed him he was taking a party back to Insomnia to start assessing what work would be needed at the citadel to get it functioning again. Presumably, this visit is to update him regarding the outcome of that mission. It occurs to him then that his dreams of Noctis started around the same time as that scouting party left for Insomnia, which is obviously an interesting coincidence.

“D’you like living here?” Cor asks, with his usual gruffness.

He takes a sip of coffee and considers the question for a moment. “It has its charms. Admittedly, it's not a place I ever thought I'd find myself living.”

“So you consider it home?”

“Presently, yes.” His thoughts turn to Galdin Quay, of the soft white sands and the roar of the ocean. “But I believe I'm reaching my time to move on.”

Cor clears his throat. “The citadel is in better condition than I'd hoped.”

“That's excellent news.”

“Within a few months we can be back in the liveable parts. That’ll make it easier to supervise the rebuilding of the city as well as the forming of a ruling party.”

He nods. “There's a lot of work to do.”

He's aware of the noncommittal nature of his responses, which is possibly what prompts Cor to ask his next question.

“Can I trust that you'll be coming with us, when the time comes? We need people like you, Ignis.”

He sets his coffee cup down on the table. He knew this moment would come, and is determined to ensure that he handles it with the diplomacy he is famed for. Cor’s a smart man. Chances are, he's already sensed he's not going to get the answer he's hoping for.

“I'm understandably flattered to be asked… However, after careful consideration, I've decided it's time to take my life in a different direction.”

“Oh? How so?”

He tries to determine how surprised - or annoyed - Cor is by this news. It's much harder without sight, but Cor has never been an easy man to read.

“I'm moving to Galdin Quay next month.”

“Galdin Quay?” Definitely surprised. “What are you going there for?”

He smiles, adjusting his visor. “Well, it’s certainly not for the views.”

It's a relief to hear Cor’s bark of laughter.

“Believe it or not, I'm going to run the restaurant there. They're renaming it _The King’s Landing_ in honour of Noctis.”

There. It's out in the open, Cor Leonis being the first person he's told who may not feel he's making the right decision. There's a pause that seems to drag interminably before the other man speaks. He wonders if he's missing something by being unable to see Cor’s expression.

“Well… while I'm sorry you won't be returning to the capital, I'm pleased that you've found something you want. You certainly deserve it, Ignis.”

“Thank you, Marshal.” Cor's response is an enormous relief. He doesn't realise how much he needed the other man’s approval until he has it.

“I wish you luck with your new endeavours.”

“Likewise. The people of Lucis are in good hands.”

When Cor is gone, he returns to the balcony to retrieve their empty cups. Ever since he made the decision to go to Galdin Quay, he's found himself concerned at the thought of other people’s reactions, whether it’s their doubt surrounding his disability or their disappointment that he’s choosing a future for himself. With Cor now fully in the picture, there are only two others whose reactions he is truly anxious about, even though they aren't in regular contact anymore.

OoOoO

"Okay, I think you've got everything," Talcott says, sounding slightly out of breath. "The last box has just gone on the truck."

"Excellent. I really appreciate the assistance."

His hand ghosts the wall of his now empty apartment. He tries to imagine what it looks like, even though he never saw it furnished.

"You gonna miss the place?"

He considers the question for a moment. "I believe I shall."

Talcott huffs a laugh. "I don't reckon you'll have time to miss it. There's a lot of buzz about the resort re-opening. I heard opening night was fully booked weeks ago."

"Apparently so, although I have a table reserved, if you'd care to come as one of my honoured guests? Cid is coming with Cindy and I believe Cor and Iris are planning to attend."

"Thank you; I'd love to." He senses a slight hesitation before Talcott says, "Have you invited the others?"

"I sent word for both of them, but I've not had a reply. I'm assuming they're both busy or haven't received the message. I believe Gladio was last in Tenebrae a little while ago.”

It appears Talcott doesn't know what to say to that, so into the resulting awkwardness he says, "Well, shall we make a move then?"

He's about to agree when something occurs to him. "Do you recall packing my recipe book?”

"Hmmm,” Talcott replies. "I definitely packed a lot of books and it can't still be here because your apartment is completely bare."

He hates not being certain, but to start emptying boxes to look for it would delay them significantly.

"I'm sure you're right. Very well then, let's go."

The drive to Galdin Quay takes several hours. Throughout the journey, Talcott describes points of interest that they pass, allowing him to remember or to mentally remap the world. To the sound of the engine, he loses himself in memories of a simple road trip that quickly spiralled into something infinitely more complicated. When Talcott asks if he's okay, he starts to tell stories about their travels, lighthearted moments that make the other man laugh. It doesn't hurt to talk about those days anymore, which is good.

In the ten years Noct was gone, his extensive research meant that he'd come to first understand and then accept that the king's return, when it happened, would only be temporary. He'd grieved before Noct had even returned, so if anything, the pang of sadness he gets now is more to do with the distance between his living friends - his _brothers_. He thinks of his dreams, of Noct's bewilderment about the fractures in their relationship - invisible, but no less devastating. He hopes Gladio and Prompto will come on opening night and tries to tell himself not to read anything into it if they don't.

 

TBC...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. I've been distracted by writing a number of one shots. :)
> 
> As always, thank you for comments / kudos. I really appreciate them! <3


	6. Chapter 6

As they pull into the parking lot at Galdin Quay, he's hit by a wave of emotions. On their first ever visit, fresh into that ill-fated road trip, they'd marvelled at the beauty of the place, of the crystal-clear waters and endless expanses of white sand. He smiles to himself as he recalls his own grumbles about sand getting into the Regalia. How insignificant an aggravation that turned out to be, given everything that followed.

“Well, we’re here,” Talcott announces as he kills the engine.

He nods. “How does it look?”

“Yeah,” the other man replies. “It's looking pretty damn amazing if I'm honest.”

“I remember it from before. Does it still look the same?”

There’s a pause, presumably while Talcott considers the question. “Well, I only saw pictures of it before it got destroyed, but it definitely looks similar. You ready to go check out your new home?”

“Indeed.”

He listens as Talcott climbs out of the vehicle and walks around to the other side to open his door. His cane rests across his thigh and he feels for the loop, placing it over his wrist before settling his grip on the handle. He’d used it more sporadically in Lestallum, so familiar were his surroundings after ten years, but in new places, it's useful to help him get his bearings, without stumbling around.

The first thing that hits him is the smell of the ocean, swiftly followed by the sound of the waves lapping the shoreline. His hair ruffles in the breeze as the sun warms his skin. He senses Talcott moving to stand beside him and instinctively he reaches for the other man’s elbow to orient himself to the direction they're going to be walking in.

“It's really beautiful here,” Talcott comments as they cross the parking lot. “I think you've made the right decision.”

“I hope you're right.” He smiles, grateful for Talcott’s obvious positivity.

“Okay, stairs ahead of you. Five of them.”

“Thank you.”

They walk a little further together, then Talcott says, “Coctura’s seen you, she's on her way over.” And true enough, he can hear the sound of speedy footsteps.

"Ignis!" Coctura greets him warmly. She sounds excited. "Come on, I can't wait to take you around."

“Thank you. I'm thrilled to be here.”

“Ignis? I'll go and start moving your stuff,” Talcott announces. “You're still taking the apartment on the right?”

“I am, but I insist on helping.”

“It's okay; I'll get started. You go and get the official tour.”

Coctura walks beside him describing their surroundings and the work that has taken place over the last few months to bring the resort back to opulence. He's been out here a couple of times since he decided to take Coctura up on her offer, but there was still plenty to be done. The sound of the tide is pleasant as they reach the part of the walkway above where the land meets the sea. In the distance, seabirds are calling to one another. He breathes deeply, already feeling the peace of a decision well-made settling upon him.

The cane taps on the wooden walkway as they walk. Fortunately they've kept the layout of the resort mostly the same, so he has memories to draw on too as they reach the steps up to the restaurant.

He senses a person up ahead, confirmed by the sound of footsteps at their approach. Coctura touches him gently on the arm, orienting him to the new person.

"Ignis, I'd like you to meet Bernard. He'll be working front of house. You may remember him from your previous visits here?"

"I do," he replies, recollections of a man, presumably now in his early fifties, with a warm welcoming smile. He holds out his hand. "It's a pleasure to make your re-acquaintance, Bernard."

"The pleasure's all mine," the maître d' replies warmly as they shake hands. "None of this would be possible without you and your friends."

This reaction is familiar. Before it made him uncomfortable to be the subject of such praise, but he's grown used to it over the years and he recognises that he should be proud of everything they did.

"Thank you, Bernard. I'm looking forward to being here."

"Anything you need, please just say."

"Appreciated, thank you."

Coctura takes his arm again. "Kitchen next, you're gonna _love_ it."

Her enthusiasm is obvious, and it's delightfully infectious. The temperature is pleasant, but he knows it will get hotter, especially in the kitchens, though Coctura assures him that the constant sea breeze prevents it from becoming too uncomfortable.

"Okay, from the restaurant entrance, the kitchens are at your three o'clock. There's one small step down," Coctura cautions as they make their way over. When the tip of his cane finds the door, she allows him to push it open. Unsurprisingly, it swings smoothly, away and then back to meet his hand - a necessity for busy staff carrying plates of food back and forth.

She proceeds to detail the layout. He nods as he wanders around listening, fingers brushing the cool metal surfaces, pleased to discover everything is exactly where they'd agreed it would go when they'd started to make plans, after he'd first said he wanted in.

"As for the staff, we've got ten people from before - all good people, but obviously we need more. I didn't want to recruit without you though."

"There are a couple of people over in Lestallum whom I've come to know well that would be interested in making the move out here," he suggests.

"Excellent," Coctura replies. "I trust your judgment, so if you think they'd be good to have here then give them a call."

"I will, thank you."

"Hey, don't thank me, Ignis. Remember - we're fifty-fifty; you've got as much of a say as me. And on the subject of staff, it would be helpful for you to speak to them all together about how best to work with you."

He hesitates, but Coctura, because she's whip-smart, interprets it correctly.

"I know what you're thinking - and trust me, this isn't solely about your eyesight. I know you'll think that they might think you can't manage or that you're some kind of dictator, but restaurant staff are well-used to dealing with chefs and their idiosyncrasies. It's like a cardinal rule of the kitchen - the chef will have a system and a preferred way of working and you get with it or you get out."

He can hear the smile in her voice when she adds, "Trust me, Ignis. If anything, they're gonna be more thrown by how polite and laid back you are. Chefs are normally a temperamental bunch. I promise you, I'll be having exactly the same talk to them about working with me."

"Well, I shall defer to your expertise, Coctura. With respect to my vision, or lack of it, the main things tend to be that people put things back where they got them from and that they don't leave things on the floor. Other than that I can't think of anything that people would specifically need to know at this moment."

Coctura laughs. "Give it six months; you'll be a diva chef with the best of 'em."

He laughs with her; right now he can't imagine him ever being a diva chef, but several months ago he couldn't imagine himself even being a _chef_ , period, so maybe he'll be surprised all over again.

OoOoO

It amazes him how quickly he settles in. He's primed himself for an adjustment period, for potential wobbles or crises of confidence when he will question the wisdom of his decision, but they never materialise. He learns his way around the restaurant until he's navigating it with confidence. With Coctura, they work together, planning and trialling recipes until the restaurant’s exclusive menu has taken shape. They bring in more staff, who quickly become used to working with him, and for the first time in a very long time, he doesn't feel burden of his disability.

Above the kitchens there are two small apartments. Coctura has chosen to stay in her home about ten minutes away in Leide, but she'll crash here on the occasions when a late night runs headlong into an early morning. Otherwise, the apartment will be free. The identical lodgings next door are now his home. It's a similar size to the place he had in Lestallum, with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchenette and a living area which opens onto a small balcony. At night, it's extremely pleasant to leave the balcony door open so that he drifts off to sleep serenaded by the roar of the ocean.

He's been a Galdin Quay for a few weeks when he dreams of Noct again.

This time he's cooking in the restaurant, wearing his chef whites. It's not the restaurant as it is now, because, as part of the redesign, the new kitchens are completely private, leaving a bar where Coctura used to cook. He'd been relieved that this was Coctura’s preference too, as he'd disliked the idea of being some kind of novelty performer - the blind chef at work. In this dream he's cooking at the resort when the restaurant was called the _Mother of Pearl_ , where Coctura cooked a fish for the cat Noct took a shine to. The ocean glitters in the distance, impossibly blue and inviting.

He glances around to see Noct perched on a stool, then laughs at the sight of that same cat sitting next to him. Noct is smiling, watching him as he cooks, one hand idly smoothing the cat’s fur.

“Hey,” he says. “Looking good, Specs.”

He glances up from the fish he's sautéing to give Noct a smile. He feels at home behind the grill here.

“No regrets?” Noct asks.

“Well, we haven't opened yet, but none so far.”

“That's great,” Noct says, “Really great. I gotta say it suits you.”

“Is this an attempt to flatter me into cooking for your feline friend, here?”

Noct laughs. “It’s okay, I'm happy to share. But if you wanna, don't let me stop you.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, the only sound the sizzle of the pan as the fish cooks. When it's done, he transfers it to a plate already resplendent with artfully arranged greens and sets it down in front of Noct, with another fillet cut and flaked for the cat. Noct picks up his fork and spears some of fish and salad. He chews appreciatively, eyes closed for a moment.

If he'd not been sure it was a dream, this is the point where it would have sunk in. He knows he's staring. Noct opens his eyes.

“What?”

“You're eating salad,” he replies flatly.

Noct shrugs and grins. “It's not so bad.”

“Wonders will never cease.”

He turns off the burners and starts to wipe down where he's been working while Noct and the cat eat together. He's barely completed that task before Noct announces that they've both finished, declaring the meal a resounding success on behalf of him and his friend.

He smiles dryly. “Why thank you, Noct. I am of course thrilled to receive the endorsement of a creature that considers its own backside a delicacy.”

Noct laughs loudly. His expression is so bright it's hard to imagine the sullen teenage he could be sometimes. The cat jumps down from the countertop and trots off toward the exit, leaving them alone.

“So,” Noct says, drawing his attention from the departing feline, “you’ve obviously got your future plans well in hand, so how about the other thing I asked you to think about? Have you made any inroads with the others?”

He folds the cloth he's been using and studies it for a moment.

“It's opening night in a week’s time and I've invited them both as guests of honour. I did eventually get replies from them confirming they were going to try and come, but they've both intimated that they're really busy at the moment so I’m braced for last-minute calls to say they're otherwise engaged and can't make it.”

“How will you feel if that happens?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I'll be disappointed, but I’ll understand if they've got other things they must attend to; they're rebuilding their lives, just as I am. Now I've got this place, I'm not sure I could drop everything if I found myself in the same situation.”

“You were always the diplomat,” Noct replies warmly. “But I hope they come.” He gestures to the incredible vista. “They'd be insane to miss all this. You're gonna make this place a smash, Ignis.”

“Thank you, Noct. I most certainly hope so.”

He's about to ask Noct a question of his own, when he's distracted by a noise. At first he thinks it must be a timer on one of the kitchen appliances he's surrounded by, but the insistent tone allows him to place it quickly. The scene before him fades to blackness as the sound grows louder before he reaches out his hand and locates his phone, switching off the alarm. It's six a.m. with exactly a week to go before _The King’s Landing_ opens at Galdin Quay. He hopes it’s going to be the success the Noct in his dreams believes it will be.

Better get to work.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's maybe only one or two chapters left - I'm sorry for not updating sooner! Thank you to everyone who has read / commented / left kudos so far. It really means a lot. <3


	7. Chapter 7

With just over twenty-four hours to go until opening night, the pace of work has taken on a greater sense of urgency, but the mood remains upbeat, tempers remarkably even. Mid-afternoon they reach the point where they feel _ready_ , like if tonight were opening night, they’d manage just fine. They've arranged for all their staff to assemble in the lounge area for a pre-opening get together now the preparations are complete; once the restaurant is open tomorrow, there will be little time for actually enjoying the facilities themselves so for today, they will make the most of it. Within reason, of course. Opening night staffed by a group of people nursing hangovers would _hardly_ be an appropriate start to this venture, after all.

In his apartment, Ignis checks over his appearance one final time before preparing to make his way downstairs. Ready to leave, he pats along the unit in the living room until his hand finds his visor. It’s occurred to him that he still prefers to wear it despite it serving no particular purpose anymore. The minimal difference he can detect in different kinds of lighting doesn't cause him any discomfort now and he’s no issue with people seeing his disfigured skin, just as, with his preference for wearing his shirt sleeves rolled up, he makes no attempt to conceal the long, straight scar on the underside of his left forearm.

Yet, somehow the visor connects him to his old life and he accepts the attachment for what it is. Especially since moving here he’s still been unable to locate his notebook - that other link to the past that has no functional purpose anymore, but is important to him nonetheless. He doesn’t need it; his favourite recipes are ingrained in his memory and it’s not like he can flick back through it for nostalgia purposes. But still. He rarely loses anything, so it’s frustrating that this has gone missing after keeping it safe for so many years. This is a new chapter in his life though, so he’s determined not to dwell.

He navigates his way to the door and lets himself out, smiling to himself at the increased hubbub from downstairs, the excited chatter from the assembled group of people whom he’s come to know over the last few weeks. For so many of them, this represents a new start in a life they never believed they would live to see. He understands the sentiment completely.

“Ignis!” Coctura says warmly as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. Her tone indicates surprise - a coincidence that he should appear at the exact moment she’s come to stand here, even though both of them know that it’s no such thing. He knows she’s been waiting for him, forever mindful of whether he will require any assistance in various situations.

Prior to the move out here, he’d privately wondered how he would fair around other people who knew neither his idiosyncrasies nor how to facilitate a person with his disabilities without appearing patronising. Mentally he’d found himself rehearsing conversations, explaining the kinds of things he would require help with, without sounding demanding or bad tempered. Never a natural people person like Gladio, he'd worried about coming across as icy and unapproachable. So far though, he appears to be navigating those waters successfully.

On Coctura's recommendation, he’d had a sit down with all the staff several weeks ago. At the start, there were nerves, both his and the others in the room, all of them dancing around the things they wanted and needed to say, but too polite to begin. He’d decided to preface his speech with an honest entreaty - that he wasn’t formally trained like Coctura and other chefs they’d probably worked with in the past, but he was no less passionate about his desire to make _The King's Landing_ a resounding success. He asked for their patience in advance, and made it clear that he was prepared to learn from each and every one of them.

He’d then made them laugh with tales of the culinary journey he’d unwittingly embarked on when he’d accompanied Noct from Insomnia, when their packs had contained weapons, curatives and a growing collection of spices and ingredients. He'd thought of his notebook, so important on their travels but little more than a keepsake now, that he'd still not had time to locate since the move.

Talking about the past had given him confidence to move the discussion onto more practical issues. He knew they’d have questions - curiosity is what keeps the human race moving forward, after all - and he’d explained how he was happy to answer anything about his condition that they wanted to know. Tentatively, the enquiries had started - Could he make out shapes, sense movement? No, nothing. Could he tell the difference between light and dark? Infinitesimally, so the ability has little usefulness. Should they identify themselves when they come to speak to him? That would be a great help, yes. And they shouldn’t be offended if some voices he recognises easier than others. His role as Noct's advisor had made him high-profile enough for them to know he’d sustained the injuries in service to the crown, rather than having been born this way. There had been no pity though - just genuine admiration for what he’d survived.

What was heartening was that the questions centred around increasing their understanding of his situation so that they could facilitate him. They _wanted_ to know. He’d explained what he’d told Coctura when he’d first arrived about trip hazards and not moving things without telling him - those simple, common sense things that made the difference between being able to work smoothly and struggling with even simple tasks. He’d thanked them for their support and gone away from the encounter both relieved that it had gone well and gratified with himself for being able to talk about what what he needed without feeling weak for doing so.

Coctura is like Talcott though. She’s got a good instinct for stepping in without making an issue of it. Like now, as she waits for him to take her arm, knowing in a room this noisy and crowded he will appreciate her support. The level of background noise hinders the abilities he’s developed to recognise others by pairing the sound of their movements with their voices, but they remember his request and they identify themselves as they approach to talk to him. There’s a lot of excitement about the restaurant and it’s infectious. He thinks of Noct and pictures him sitting there, head resting on one hand, smirking. Noct always loved being right.

Early evening, the party winds down, leaving just him and Coctura, who is staying over in the other apartment. The breeze is pleasant and they’ve turned down the music in favour of the sounds of the ocean. The silence is companionable. He’s lost in thoughts of tomorrow, and the future in general. He can only assume Coctura is doing the same.

“How you feeling?” she asks after a few moments have passed.

“Good,” he replies. “Hopeful.” He drinks some of the champagne they’d opened earlier. “You?”

“Yeah.” He can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m good too. I’m nervous though. I keep telling myself that it’ll just be the same as last time, you know, I’ve done this before, it’s no big deal, it’s just a restaurant, blah blah blah.” She pauses for a moment, and when she speaks again her voice is wistful. “But it’s not the same is it? We've all survived something so terrible... ten long years... and now we've been given a second chance.” He can tell she’s turned to face him. “So we make it good.”

While she’s been talking, Ignis realises he’s been stroking along the scar on his arm. Coctura's right, of course. Every person alive today has survived the trials of the years while Noct was in the crystal, when darkness ruled. Some, like himself, survived their personal daemons too. Noct gave his life so he could have this opportunity, so he’ll give it his all, just as he always did before.

“We’ll make it good,’ he agrees, nodding. He holds out his glass. “To _The King’s Landing_.”

OoOoO

He wakes just before his five a.m. alarm, still filled with that comforting sense of positivity. The first guests will be arriving this evening from seven o’clock onwards so there’s a busy day ahead as the food preparation begins, but he welcomes the prospect of so much activity. He’s done a number of test runs in the kitchen, familiarising himself with the layout and where everything is kept so that he can access everything quickly. Most of the kitchen apparatus have their names in Braille along the handles to prevent him from having to discern them by touching the opposite end whilst they are in use, so he’s confident that they’ve addressed everything to ensure things will run smoothly.

He showers, then throws on some shorts and a short-sleeved shirt that he buttons loosely. It’s already shaping up to be hot day - the temperature has climbed steadily over the last couple of weeks as summer makes its presence felt. His hair is already drying as he fixes himself some breakfast; he’s tending to style it less and less now, with the humidity at the quay providing a constant challenge to the look he’s favoured for the last few years. He combs it across his forehead, recalling how he favoured this style as a young man back in Insomnia. Although he’s not that fresh-faced youth any more, he no longer mourns for his former life. For a long time, that wasn’t the case at all.

For years after Noct went into the crystal, he longed to go back to those days. Trapped both by the darkness and his own despair and unable to imagine a future for himself at all, he lived in his memories and the halcyon days of the past. Now, he’s an entirely different Ignis, forged and strengthened by his experiences. For a long time he’s accepted that this Ignis is different, but now... now he thinks maybe this version of him might actually be _better_.

He spends the morning with two of their three sous chefs, peeling and preparing vegetables. The atmosphere is light, and they swap stories of happier times as they work, with Marius, the older of the two, periodically singing along to the songs that play on the radio. The sea breeze is pleasant, and it’s on this air that he hears his name being called above the clatter of kitchenware and the DJ's chatter. It’s mid-afternoon and the other staff who are working tonight have started to arrive. Coctura is supervising front of house tonight, but she keeps popping in and out to update him on how the preparations are going. It’s a male voice however, whom he hears saying to someone, “Is Ignis around? I’ve got someone here to see him.”

He wipes his hands, and heads to the door, fingers trailing the surfaces to keep himself orientated. Cautiously he puts his hand out to the door in case the person - Claud the barman, he thinks it is - and the mystery visitor are coming in, but it’s closed. He pushes on it gently, sensing them standing just ahead in the restaurant.

“Ah, Ignis, it’s Claud,” the man confirms. “I’ve brought you a visitor.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but is beaten by a sharp intake of breath and a laugh of delight that he’d know anywhere.

“Ignis, you look amazing!” Prompto exclaims, before a rush of footsteps bring him forward. “Seriously, dude. This place _totally_ suits you.”

It's impossible not to smile; Prompto's enthusiasm is infectious. When Noct had first befriended him, Ignis had reserved judgment, concerned that Prompto might prove a distraction. Over time though, he’d come to realise that Prompto was a good influence on the reluctant prince. Later still, he’d also realised that Prompto's sunny disposition was a gift to them all, even himself who was naturally not that way inclined.

“Why, thank you.”

“You’ve got a glow and everything. Ignis Scientia with a tan!”

It honestly had never occurred to him that he might have caught the sun, despite all the hours he now spends outside. He tries to picture himself as he is now, dressed casually, his hair loose rather than styled in either of the looks he wore regularly, _tanned_... all of it so far removed from the stiff formality of life in the citadel.

“You’re here for dinner?” he enquires.

“I am! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Excellent. Do you happen to know if Gladio is coming?”

“I think he’s hoping to; it’s a couple of weeks since I last spoke to him though. I know he’s been really busy.”

Ignis nods and smiles, trying to conceal the prospect of disappointment. Although he’s told himself the show will go on regardless, he realises how much he wants Gladio and Prompto here. It’s only afternoon, so there’s still plenty of time for the other man to show.

“Ignis?” The voice from behind him is Anthony, the other sous chef, who's come out of the kitchen. “Sorry to interrupt, but Marius wants to know if you want the peppers slicing?”

“Oh, yes please. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

He hears the gentle swish of the kitchen door swinging shut. Then Prompto says, “Look, Ignis, I’ll get out of your hair, okay? I’ve got some stuff to do and I know you'll be crazy busy.”

Prompto's right, but he’s suddenly reluctant to let him go. He thinks of Noct, encouraging him to mend fences with his friends.

“You’re not rushing off afterwards, are you?”

“I’m staying over nearby so we'll get time to catch up,” Prompto says, as if he can sense his concerns.

This eases something in him. Now, he can focus on the restaurant knowing there will be time to talk once the pressure of opening night is over.

“Well, I’m really happy that you’re here,” he replies, smiling.

“Me too.”

He heads back into the kitchen once Prompto has gone, acknowledging his own excitement about what’s to come. When he needs a break, he steps out onto the small outside area at the back of the kitchens. Above the clatter of pans, the sea carried the sounds from the nearby shore. Faintly, he can hear music playing and the sounds of people. Of life. He smiles to himself.

“It's busy,” Marius comments, stepping out to join him at the rail. “Reminds me of the old days.”

He turns his head slightly and nods. “I remember coming here with Noct. We'd never left Insomnia before. I’m glad I got to see it.”

Marius squeezes his shoulder. “It's gonna be even better, you know.”

“I hope so.”

OoOoO

The bustle around Galdin Quay increases as the day goes on. Talcott arrives with Iris, followed by Cor about an hour later. Cid and Cindy seek him out to say hello before they go to join the small group on the beach. With an hour to go before the guests officially start to arrive, he goes back to his apartment to change.

They’d decided on a deep burgundy for the colour of their uniforms, eschewing the traditional chef whites for both himself and Coctura. The waiting on staff and the rest of the kitchen staff are in gold, complementing the restaurant's colour scheme. He fastens the last button and smooths his hand down the front of the jacket to check that he’s not missed any of the openings. The sleeves are rolled up. He stills for a moment, attempting to picture himself dressed for his new role. He thinks of Noct and the dreams, and of his friends out there to support him. It’s time.

He heads downstairs, listening carefully. As it's opening night, all their diners for the evening are gathering in the bar area and the deck outside for welcome drinks. After they’ve dined there will be a firework display on the beach to mark the occasion. He locates Cindy's distinctive voice amongst the crowd and turns, before realising that she is speaking to someone with an equally distinctive voice. He can feel his smile growing, feel his spirits climbing, knowing that the last missing piece has fallen into place.

“Gladio,” he exclaims, as he draws closer to the group. “You made it.”

He hears a body turning as heavy footsteps squeak slightly on the marble floor.

“Iggy!” Gladio replies and suddenly he's pulled into a hug that is as warm and powerful as the man giving it.

They stay that way, locked together for several moments. Gladio's scent is so uniquely him, it’s impossible to avoid the wave of memories that crash over him, fuelled by an entire lifetime of association with this man. That they’ve drifted apart seems inconceivable. No wonder he’s regularly dreaming of Noct telling him he needs to rebuild these bridges with both Gladio and Prompto.

“How are you?” he says, when the hug turns to backslaps just before they pull apart.

Gladio's hand cups the side of his face, his other hand still resting on Ignis's arm. Gladio's always been a tactile man, something he found an anchor when he first lost his sight and felt cast adrift in the blackness. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“You're here. That means a lot, so thank you.”

“Thanks for invite; I can’t wait to taste whatever you've got cookin'.”

“I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

Gladio makes an amused sound. “Iggy, I lived off your cooking for years. I know it’s gonna be amazin'.”

“Thank you. I hope you’re right.”

Gladio's hand, which had fallen away, finds his shoulder once more and gives it a squeeze. When the other man speaks, his tone is earnest.

“Concentrate on your duties and we'll catch up later, okay?”

He thinks of Noct and everything he needs to say to Gladio and Prompto and he nods.

“I’d like that.”

There are further words of encouragement from his other guests before he makes his way to the kitchens. Once inside, his hand strays over the stainless steel work surface and he takes a moment to collect himself.

This is it.

Time to step into this new chapter of his life.

The back door opens and someone steps in.

“Hey, Ignis,” Anthony says cheerfully. “Ready to get cooking?”

He smiles and nods after a moment's contemplation. He thinks of his friends sitting out there, all rooting for him to make this work. All believing in him that he can do this.

“Yes,” he answers, “yes, I think I am.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the fuck-up with the update the other month! Many thanks to everyone who's still reading. :)
> 
> Come find me on tumblr @hellomynameisswordy


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story remains my self-indulgent coping strategy that I felt compelled to write when I first completed the game. I therefore make no apologies for the content because I needed those boys to have a happy ending. Just one more chapter to go after this one.

The evening passes in a blur.

They cook for eighty people, the kitchen a whirlwind of activity until every last person is sated. With the food done, the night sky is lit up with fireworks. He joins Coctura and their guests in a toast to the success of the new restaurant, but declines to take up a valuable viewing space for the firework display, instead retiring to the kitchens to reflect on how the night has gone. He imagines Noct would be proud of what he’s accomplished. If he can produce a similar success with his friends, he'll surely have set his life on the path that his subconscious clearly wants for him.

The last guests finally leave around one am. He assumes that includes his friends too and he’s disappointed that he’s missed them, until Coctura assures him that they’re still here. Once the kitchens are clean and the waiting on staff have left too, he goes to find Gladio and Prompto, whom Bernard informs him are drinking the bar dry at the far pier before bidding Ignis goodnight. As he sinks into a seat, Prompto presses a glass of wine into his hand. It smells divine and is gloriously cold. He allows his head to fall back; he's exhausted, but contented in a way he realises he hasn't felt in a long time.

"You doing okay, Iggy?" Gladio asks.

"I am," he confirms. "Have you enjoyed it?"

" _Enjoyed_ it?" Gladio replies, cutting off Prompto's ' _it's been awesome_!' "I can't remember the last time I've eaten as much!"

"Better than Cup Noodles?" he asks dryly, the question quickly followed by Prompto's snort of laughter.

"Better _even_ than Cup Noodles," Gladio confirms.

They sit in companionable silence for a moment listening to the ocean. He realises he misses these men badly. He wants to say something, but the words feel heavy in his mouth - they contain the potential to ruin the mood, after all - but then he thinks of Noct urging him to change things between them and says, "I know you have busy lives, but I hope you'll both consider coming back here again soon."

Neither reply, but somehow he can sense them exchanging glances. What that may mean, he doesn't know. He swallows down the frustration of not being able to see their expressions, determined not to let the outcome of this conversation spoil such an amazing night. At least he can say he tried.

"Well," Gladio says, "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Oh?"

Beside him, Prompto shuffles in his seat, a brief display of that nervous energy of old. "Tell him."

He can hear the grin in Gladio's voice when he says, "I'm moving out to Leide so I'll be about ten minutes away by car."

"That's excellent,” he replies, genuinely delighted. “What prompted the move?"

"You're gonna love this!" Prompto says enthusiastically.

"I'm starting a survival retreat and hunter training camp. I've been toying with the idea for a while now and people keep telling me there's a good market for it; people wanna learn how to hunt and fish and fend for themselves so I figured 'why not?'"

"And naturally they wanna learn from the best," Prompto teases.

"Yeah, well that's a given, but I didn't wanna sound bigheaded, you know?" Gladio replies, laughing.

"Well, I wish you every success," Ignis says, tipping his glass in the direction of Gladio's voice. Even though they'll both be busy with their respective ventures, the thought of Gladio living close by is comforting.

"There's more," Prompto interjects, sounding as if he's going to burst. "I'm moving back to Hammerhead permanently in a few weeks.”

"Hammerhead?"

"Guess he finally wore Cindy down," Gladio says, never missing an opportunity to tease Prompto back.

"Hey!" Now he can _feel_ Prompto blushing beside him, indicating that the other man's relationship with the mechanic remains purely platonic. "Cid's letting me rent the apartment behind the garage and Cindy's gonna help me with my set up my business - she already does the books for the garage. I'm going into freelance photography!"

"That's wonderful. I'm thrilled for you, Prompto."

"Thanks! I've got some work lined up for Vyv. You remember him? But I figured Hammerhead would be a good spot because I've also secured a regular gig... as official resort photographer for Galdin Quay. Soooo, yeah. I think we'll definitely be seeing more of each other soon!"

It's plain to hear the excitement in both men's voices as they talk about their plans for the future and their enthusiasm is infectious. Ignis sips his wine and listens, pleased for them and happy at the prospect of having them both closer.

"So did you each know about the other's plans?" he asks, eventually.

"No - we literally told each other tonight over dinner!" Prompto answers and there's surprise and awe in his voice at this serendipitous turn of events.

"And then there's you," Gladio says, his voice warm with affection. "Owner and head chef at _The King's Landing_. You're gonna make this place a smash, Iggy."

"I certainly hope so."

"Although, you sure you wanna set up somewhere there's water on every side?" Gladio continues, the teasing note back in his voice. "Wouldn't want you falling in."

"Gladio!" Prompto squawks in feigned outrage.

There's a thud, which he correctly identifies as Prompto punching Gladio in the arm, judging by Gladio’s amused ' _ow_ '.

"I _can_ swim," he deadpans. "But I appreciate your concern nonetheless, Gladio."

They laugh together. The sound carries out to sea and after a moment, Prompto sighs.

"This is so awesome. I... I really missed you guys."

"The feeling is entirely mutual," Ignis replies, his answered layered over the top of Gladio's, ' _Yeah_ '.

"I hated being apart from you both," Prompto continues, his voice carrying a wavering note that wasn't there moments before, "We lost Noct... and it felt like everything had fallen apart. You two... you were Crownsguard—proper Crownsguard, I mean, and that meant something even though there was no royal family to protect any more. With Noct gone, I wasn't sure if I still fitted; he was the glue that bound us, after all."

At Prompto's admission Ignis thinks of the dreams, of Noctis's words: _Was it only duty that held you all together_?

"We just seemed to drift," Prompto says. "I didn't know what to do to stop it happening. I didn't know if you _wanted_ to stop it happening. I thought, maybe you were glad to be rid of me, I dunno..."

"No," Ignis says quickly, hating the idea that Prompto had felt like that. "That couldn't be further from the truth." He feels for the table and places his wine glass down on it, preparing for his own confession.

"What happened to me in Altissia... in a way it was easy to avoid having to deal with it then because there was so much else at stake. Maybe I was in shock too, I don't know. After Zegnautus, when we realised what the world had become, it finally hit me, as you know.” His memory drifts... _lying in a bath, the water freezing, limbs heavy as boulders as hands pull him upward, a voice saying his name over and over pleading with him not to die.._. He brings himself back to the present, his hand automatically moving to the scar on his arm.

“I’m so sorry, Prompto. After what happened... after what I did... I was so determined to prove to everyone that I was better. I loathed the idea of being a burden to you, to the both of you. I made myself so busy that I neglected the relationships that were the most important to me.”

He turns to where he knows Prompto is sitting. "So I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't want you around. Or you, Gladio," he adds, "In truth, I've missed both of you dreadfully, but I didn't know how to communicate that without seeming weak. I thought if I reached out, you'd think I couldn't manage on my own and was expecting you to look after me in some way."

"We would have come if you'd needed us, Iggy," Gladio says, fiercely loyal as always. Prompto concurs, equally emphatic. “And we all played our part in makin' that distance between us, so you don’t need to apologise.”

"I never doubted that you'd have come if I asked," Ignis answers, touched by their earnestness, "but I didn't want to tear you from your own lives and have you end up resenting me. I didn't need help... I just missed what we had."

A hand drops onto his shoulder, the movement cautious enough so as not to make him jump, but firm enough to convey the sentiment in the gesture. Almost simultaneously, there's one on his other shoulder too.

"From now on we talk to each other, okay?" Gladio says. "And for what it's worth, Iggy, although I wanted you to stay behind after Altissia, I was impressed by how you handled yourself back then. When we were in Cartanica... then Zegnautus, you never once backed away from a fight. You'd only just lost your sight and yet you refused to let it stop you, so I'd _never_ have thought you were weak if you'd called."

"Thank you.” There will be more to talk about. One conversation isn’t enough to unpick the last ten years, after all, but it’s a start. “We all went through a lot back then."

"But we're still here. Better. _Stronger_ ," Gladio answers, sounding just like the Gladio who had kept them on course with his courage and conviction. "And Noct made that sacrifice so we could have a future. I know he'd want us to share it."

"Definitely," Prompto adds, equally emphatic.

Once again Ignis is reminded of his dream, of Noct's determination that he should now focus on doing something for himself as well as reconnecting with his friends. The future plans of the king's shield sound utterly perfect for him, as do Prompto's come to think...

"So," he says, taking his wine back. "What made you decide to start this new chapter of your life now, Gladio?"

"It was the craziest thing." There's a creak, presumably as Gladio sits back in his chair, preparing to tell his story. The man's voice says he still can't quite believe it himself. "I started dreaming about Noct."

There's another sound — Prompto, it turns out — choking on whatever it is he's drinking.

"Are you okay, Prompto?" he asks, when the spluttering and coughing finally stops.

"Yeah," comes the croaky reply. "Sorry. Carry on, Big Guy."

"Well, yeah. A while ago, I had a dream - nothing weird, just me and Noct camping somewhere. You two weren't in it. It was nice though." He can hear the smile in Gladio's voice, as he reminisces, "we talked about a lot of stuff. Even though it was just a dream, it was really vivid. I woke and could remember everything we spoke about. Thing that struck me was Noct was really interested in what I was doing now."

Listening to Gladio, it's impossible not to reanalyse the content of his own dreams, but he still manages to catch Gladio saying, "Prompto? You sure you're okay, man? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"In a way, I think he has," he says to Gladio, before Prompto can answer.

"Come again?"

"You've dreamt of Noct too, haven't you, Prompto?" he asks, ignoring Gladio for the moment.

"Uh, yeah. How did you...?"

"Because I have, too."

For a moment, neither of his companions respond, presumably as they try to get their heads around the idea that, for the last few months, they've all been experiencing the same thing.

"Noct was also insistent that I start to think about my future; indeed, I don't think it's any kind of exaggeration to say that I'm _here_ because he pushed me to think about what I would do once the work resettling people was complete."

"So, so what are you saying?" Gladio says, the frown in his voice apparent. “That... that Noct's been _visiting_ us somehow?”

"Judging by our collective experiences, I think that’s a distinct possibility.” Ignis pauses, wondering why he hasn’t considered this sooner. He muses out loud. “Umbra, Pryna, Carbuncle even. Noct has always had a strong link to messengers who can slip between worlds; maybe he’s picked up some of their tricks? After all, he spent ten years absorbing the crystal's magic. Appearing in our dreams may possibly be the simplest route if he had a message that he wanted to get to all of us — like what we should be doing with our lives," he adds, dryly.

"Well... holy shit," Gladio breathes. "That sneaky, smart son of a bitch."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Well I'm glad it did," Prompto asserts firmly. "Noct gave us all the kick in the ass we needed, even though he's no longer here."

"Agreed," Gladio replies.

Ignis raises his glass, knowing the other two will copy him. "To Noct."

" _To Noct_ ," they both echo, as the ocean roars its approval around them. 

 

 

 


End file.
